


of venetian masks and ballroom dancing

by mvrcredi



Series: cap-iron bingo fills [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Identity Reveal, M/M, POV Tony Stark, Plot Twists, Roleplay, Secret Identity, Short & Sweet, Stony Bingo, kind of, singular
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 13:44:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17529821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvrcredi/pseuds/mvrcredi
Summary: Tony can't seem to take his eyes off the mysterious blond dancing in the centre of the room with his ex-assistant, now SHIELD liaison, Natasha.





	of venetian masks and ballroom dancing

**Author's Note:**

> fill for my 'masquerade' bingo square.

Tony was entranced by the beautiful stranger amongst many on the dance floor.

He was adorned in a Venetian mask, elegant but simple, and a perfectly fitted tux. The man, blond, was dancing palm-to-palm in graceful steps with a fiery redhead Tony knew to be Natasha. He wondered if they knew each other. And if so, _how._

Tony himself was not dancing with another of the stunning women at the event. Ballroom dancing was so outdated for the twenty-first century, but hey, rich people. He’d rather observe the guests, occasionally chatting up the few that might make for good business for Stark Industries.

He sips from his flute of champagne, watching the blond a moment longer, before his eyes stray around the room. They don’t wander for long, however—they continued to centre themselves back on the mystery man dancing with his ex-assistant, revealed to be a spy.

Tony adjusts his mask with his free hand, excusing himself from a conversation he hadn’t been paying much mind to in the first place.

The billionaire finds himself in the venue’s lavish washroom, splashing his face. He groans to himself in the mirror. Socialization with the elite had become more of a hardship since Iron Man. Tony dries his face, pulling his mask back on. Sometimes it was nice to have this quasi feeling of anonymity.

 _“Fatigué?”_ Someone asks. Tony hadn’t heard them walk in. He had also forgotten that he was in France.

“No, no,” Tony waves a hand. 

_“Alors, c’est quoi?”_

_“Jamais. J’ai seulement besoin—“_ He turns to come face to face with the blond he’d been eyeing all night. “Holy _Christ._ Wow. You’re just—wow.”

The blond chuckles, a charming smile gracing his lips. “Not French, then?”

“I, uh. No?” Tony replies dumbly.

The handsome stranger takes a step forward. “Good, because my French has gotten a little rough.”

“Sure didn’t sound like it,” Tony laughs pathetically.

“You heard...” the man pauses, “four words from me.”

Tony shrugs. “Still hot.”

The faint tinge of a blush stains itself on the blond’s neck. Tony gapes, eye widening in realization at what he said. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he says hastily.

The stranger shakes his head. “No, it’s. It’s alright. You’re still, um. I think you’re, uh, pretty hot too.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Now, I didn’t say I thought _you_ were hot. I mean, I haven’t even seen you without your mask yet.”

“Maybe, but it was implied,” the stranger retorts cheekily. He offers out a hand, “I’m Steve.”

Tony takes it, giving his best practiced handshake. “Tony. Wanna come to a truce and remove our masks so I can see just _exactly_ how hot you are?”

“A truce? But we haven’t been fighting,” the blond cocks his head, just like a goddamn puppy.

“Aren’t you just—“ Tony huffs, dropping his shoulder. “You know what I meant.”

“I do, yes,” Steve nods, shoving his hands in his pockets. He winks, “But maybe this whole masquerade thing is good for reasons.”

Tony snorts. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“The element of mystery?”

“That’s weak.”

“Yeah, I know. But maybe the mask is covering some horrendous disfigurement, hm?” Steve teases. “You know, like a _huge_ scar over my eye? What if I look like Harvey Dent?”

The billionaire hums, “I’m not too worried.”

The two men are in very close proximity with each other now. Steve is close enough for Tony to be able to smell his cologne—an intoxicating scent, if Tony were to say so himself. It smelled not overly expensive, nor overly cheap. Tony looks up at the man, into his piercing blue gaze.

Not a word is exchanged between them before Tony is on his toes, engaging in a passionate, but short-lived kiss with the blond. He grins wolfishly as he pulls away.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Steve smiles at Tony. “Hey, you. How’re you enjoying the event?”

“I’d like it a lot better if you danced with me instead of Natasha,” Tony pouts.

Steve lets loose another enchanting laugh of his. “Then who would be the one being a good businessman? It sure wouldn’t be me.”

“Still,” Tony scrunches his nose, “I’m already rich. Why do I need more investors under my belt?”

Steve shakes his head. “You are unbelievable, my dear.”

“Yes, but like you said—I’m yours,” Tony says, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist, pulling him in closer. “Now how’s about we go have a final dance before we blow this popsicle stand?”


End file.
